


Shut Up and Kisumi

by Daxii



Category: Free!
Genre: Boyfriends, Coming Out, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii
Summary: “Your hand’s all sweaty,” Haru comments as they wind through the corridors to get to Kisumi’s apartment, unsure of when, exactly, they started holding hands in the first place since getting out of the car.“Maybe I’m nervous,” Kisumi mutters.He turns the key in the lock and pushes through the door, dragging Haru behind him with a sudden determination, but it only lasts as far as the bedroom door, where he freezes.“What are we doing?” he asks, hesitating, and Haru steps up behind him to just touch him.“Moving to the couch?” Haru suggests, letting his hands come to settle on Kisumi’s waist where he likes them.He guides him into the seat and climbs into his lap, knees straddling his thighs and hands on his shoulders. Kisumi’s still frozen, all but his eyes, which are practically quivering with the state of his nerves.“Kisumi...” Haru says quietly, cupping his jaw. “We don’t have to do anything different. Just kiss me.”Kisumi thinks coming out to his friends and family is kind of a big deal. Haru doesn't.
Relationships: Matsuoka Gou/Tachibana Makoto, Nanase Haruka/Shigino Kisumi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Shut Up and Kisumi

Haru’s fairly certain that absolutely nothing good is going to come from this little get together Kisumi is summoning them all to, because when does  _ anything _ good come out of literally anything to do with Kisumi. He’s the last to arrive, as usual, having only been told to  _ go the hell home already _ from the pool twenty minutes ago.

“You’re gonna catch a cold if you keep walking around in the cold with wet hair,” Makoto scolds in lieu of a greeting, opening the door to Kisumi’s apartment when Haru texts that he’s outside, and which number is it again?

“We’re all  _ starving  _ here, Haru,” Asahi whines from his seat on the floor. Ikuya kicks him, sitting behind him on the couch. “Can we order some food already?”

Kisumi’s sitting on the arm of the chair and gives Haru a nod and a little smile. It’s weird. He’s usually been tackled into a hug by him by now, but it’s like Kisumi is anxious, or something,  _ anxious _ seeming like a completely foreign word regarding him. Kisumi’s always oozed confidence,  _ cockiness _ , and the look Makoto exchanges with Haru confirms Haru’s concerns.

Something’s up.

“Sit, Haru,” Kisumi says pleasantly, nodding at the chair he’s perching on. “You’ll cramp up if you take the floor.”

Haru feels like Makoto has reserved the chair for him in advance, and has probably done the same for Ikuya and the sofa seat. Keeping them in top form for the upcoming competitions in a couple of months. Haru’s legs are kind of burning from all the long distance training he’s made the mistake of being talked into, so he’s not going to argue with the comfy seat. He just wishes Kisumi would get off it. He’s gonna get cuddled or petted or just generally  _ bothered _ if he’s hanging around so closely.

Haru sits. Kisumi doesn’t touch him.

Something’s definitely up.

“So what’s up, Kisu-chan?” Makoto says, and it’s like the moment they’ve all been waiting for.

They’re halfway through dessert now, a pastry selection sent over from Asahi’s sister, with bellies full of pizza and Haru’s getting a little giddy from sugary soda. Makoto’s started on the whisky, and Asahi’s deep into his beer. Kisumi would usually join him, but not today, he’s apparently sticking to soft drinks like Haru and Ikuya.

“Do you have news?” Ikuya adds, filling the silence that’s awkwardly beginning to settle.

Haru feels Kisumi tense,  _ anxious _ , he thinks, and he pushes his curls back with the hand that’s not holding a drink. He’s still on the arm of the chair, like Haru is some sort of barricade between him and the rest of their friends. It’s akin to what Makoto’s accused him of before, being a calming presence, somehow making people feel better just by being near. Haru thinks it’s a load of rubbish, really, because  _ he _ certainly doesn’t feel calm in these situations.

“Uh... there was something I wanted to tell you guys,” Kisumi finally says. “It felt weird to tell you all individually, but now it feels even weirder to be saying it like it’s a big dramatic announcement.”

“When are you  _ not _ a dramatic announcement?” Asahi teases. Ikuya kicks him again. Haru thinks he has a point.

“ _ Guys _ ,” Makoto, ever the big brother, scolds with a brash warning in his voice. “Go on, Kisumi, it’s ok.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m gay.”

The pressure in the room rises, something like shock or humor, Haru’s not really good at interpreting this stuff, but he doesn’t like the tension it brings, and he wants it to stop.

“Alright, then,” he says.

Haru gives Kisumi a long look, trying to read his body language and expression. He’s still anxious, he figures, but he really doesn’t need to be. There’s something lacking in Haru that Kisumi seems to have an excess of. Nagisa calls it  _ shame _ , but Haru can deal with shame, it’s this perpetual worry of what other people might  _ think _ that’s never crossed Haru’s mind. He truly doesn’t care, and it baffles him when others do.

He doesn’t like the label of  _ gay _ , it’s been tossed around so much that it feels more like a personality trait than a sexual preference, but he supposes that’s what he is, too. He likes other guys in the way that all of his friends seem to like girls. Or, all of them except Kisumi, apparently.

It seems too much effort to be gay. Haru can’t figure out if you’re supposed to parade yourself around covered in rainbows, or hide in a corner of shame and accept the hate. Why do so many people have opinions about where he wants to put his dick? And why does Kisumi feel the need to tell them that he personally likes to stick his dick in boys. It’s not like Makoto announced to them that he was sticking his in Kou Matsuoka (although it probably  _ is _ best that Rin doesn’t know).

“Why does it matter?” he continues, sort of irked by his own trail of thought.

Kisumi shrugs. “It just felt like the right thing to do. It’s what people do, right? A coming out party?”

“It’s not a very good party,” Asahi muses. Ikuya kicks him, and he’s definitely going to get a bruise. “There’s not even a pinata.”

Haru would be quite happy to sleep curled up in the chair, but before Makoto had succumbed to his whisky-induced slumber, he’d garbled something that was mostly incoherent, but made it very clear that if Haru didn’t properly sleep on a futon and ended up with backache, there’d be hell to pay, so now Makoto’s asleep on the couch and Haru and Kisumi are clearing floor space for a futon.

“I could just go home,” Haru says, for the third time, because this is  _ annoying _ .

“It’s  _ fine _ , Haru. It’s like two-am and you’re not gonna get Makoto on his feet anyway.”

“I could just leave him,” Haru muses, but there’d be consequences for that, too. “I’m not tired, anyway.”

“Because you had like six cokes. That’s more caffeine than you’ve had all  _ year _ .”

Kisumi’s not wrong. Haru sticks to water and tea most of the time, but something’s gotten into him tonight. He distantly realises it’s probably something to do with Kisumi, and maybe something to do with himself.

“Come hang out with me. I feel like you saved me a bit, earlier on. Everyone was just  _ staring _ and then you’re like  _ whatever _ .” Kisumi starts walking towards his room while he talks, and against his better judgement, Haru follows. He stops in the doorway. “I’m not gonna make a move on you or anything, so don’t go weird on me or anything,” Kisumi kind of bumbles his speech,  _ anxious _ .

“I’m not. It’s  _ whatever _ . I don’t care.”

“Thanks, Haru. That really makes me feel better.” Haru can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

Kisumi sits down on the bed, he’s been sitting on the arm of a chair and then the floor for the last five hours, so it must be nice. Haru sits, too, though not quite sprawling about like Kisumi is. It’s his turn to perch.

“I don’t understand why you wanted to tell everyone anyway. Why does it matter?” Haru asks.

“In case people are uncomfortable. It’s double edged, I guess. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable, but I also don’t want to hang out with people who are uncomfortable with me being myself. If they’re gonna be judgemental, or get mean about it, they can fuck off sooner rather than later.”

That’s Haru’s opinion on most people about most things, so he understands  _ that _ at least, but still... “Why is it anyone else’s business, though? Why should your sex life be open to opinion?”

“Oh, you mean my  _ lack _ of sex life?” Kisumi half-laughs. “Because not everyone is like you, Haru. Maybe they should be, but other people are assholes.”

Haru lies back, feet still on the floor but this is more relaxing. Having his back to Kisumi is probably doing absolutely no good for anyone’s anxiety anyway.

“You like assholes,” he says mildly.

“Ha _ ru _ ,” Kisumi whines, hand blindly reaching over to give him a shove.

“Sorry,” Haru says.  _ It’s ok, _ he thinks,  _ I like assholes too. _

Kisumi gets his laptop from the floor and opens it up, finding a movie to put on in the background. It’s probably for Haru’s sake, he thinks, a tip he’s picked up from Makoto for making him more comfortable, instead of lingering in silence or forcing conversation.

Haru, for a change, actually kinda wants some conversation. He’s curious. Kisumi is, altogether unexpectedly,  _ just like him _ .

“I can’t imagine  _ you _ having a lack of sex life,” he says, still mildly, like he’s teasing.

“What do you take me for?!” Kisumi bats at him again, rolling onto his side to look at him now. “Well, maybe if there was more opportunity...” there’s a twinkle in his eye. “What about you? Or are you saving yourself for when the pool asks for your hand in marriage?”

Haru  _ wishes _ he could marry a pool, but...

Maybe  _ this _ is the benefit of  _ coming out _ . For the opportunity. Haru’s never known an openly gay person before, and maybe if he had, he’d have had someone to learn with. Maybe they both would. What would be different? Haru wouldn’t consider himself  _ closeted _ , another label he dislikes, but he doesn’t shout about it either. He’d tell if he was asked, and he supposes Makoto probably knows  _ without _ asking. Kisumi’s pretty much asking, isn’t he?

“I’m gay too. And pools can’t consent.”

“Oh.”

Kisumi’s quiet, surveying him now in the way Haru expected. A sudden shift from strictly platonic to intrigued, assessing, maybe trying to figure out if he’s still being coy or if he’s telling the truth. Kisumi continues to say nothing, and Haru’s gonna have to keep digging this hole, he realises, if he ever wants to get out of it again.

“I’ve never had anyone to talk to about it before. Like Makoto can talk about his girlfriend with anyone and everyone understands, but I couldn’t do that. I’ve never...”

“Less opportunities for experience,” Kisumi surmises. “Same. Not properly, anyway. Or, nothing proper, I guess.”

“Tell me?” Haru hints.

Kisumi flops back, hands hiding his face, and now it’s Haru’s turn to roll to face him.

“ _ Ok _ , but this is between us, right? High school, second year, locker rooms after basket ball, and captain wanted a  _ word _ . And I was an idiot, and totally into him, and I was like  _ sure _ , so I hung around and I don’t  _ really _ remember what happened, but I ended up with his cock in my mouth and I was never on the reserve bench again.”

“That’s-”

“I  _ know _ , I  _ know _ ,” Kisumi finally drops his hands. “It was fun, though. Not really romance but just a bit of touch, a bit of someone else’s body, you know? I’ve been to mixers and kissed a few girls, but mostly so they’re not getting left out. It’s not the same, you know?”

“I don’t know,” Haru shrugs, having absolutely zero expreince with either gender.

“Yeah, well, it’s nice. Just don’t end up like me with not even a kiss in return.”

“I’ve not even done that,” Haru says, even though he doesn’t mean to.

There are feelings stirring, something about feeling a bit left behind, a bit naive and a bit too innocent. He’s never really wanted it before, never wanted to be wanted. He’s annoyed with himself for never pursuing anything, never exploring anything other than swimming for so long. How long until it’s too late?

He shifts, making himself level with Kisumi, and relaxes whatever muscles have been holding him in place to let the ease of the mattress close some of the space between them.

“It’s pretty good, you should try it sometime,” Kisumi says like they’re talking about some new food place in town.

“Maybe I’ll just take your word for it.”

Kisumi touches their foreheads together and Haru feels the exhale of Kisumi’s laugh on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Haru-chan. I feel like I’m dreaming, so I’m going to go to sleep while it’s a good one.”

Haru doesn’t sleep immediately, he can’t turn his brain off, but he also doesn’t bother to move when he hears Kisumi’s breathing level out and feels him curl onto his side in sleep. There’s too much to think about, too much running around in his mind. He’s thinking things he hasn’t thought since he was fourteen and found himself unable to avert his eyes when Makoto changed in front of him. He’d  _ almost _ had the same thoughts about Rin, hell, he’d had to share a bed with Rin in Australia and that had been his real awakening, but there was something about his closeness with Rin, and Makoto, that prevented his mind from wandering too far in that direction. He doesn’t have that same connection, or barrier, maybe, with Kisumi. Middle school, Makoto, and now  _ this _ are the only things he’s ever really had in common with him. It’s like a clean slate, without the hassle of going out and meeting someone.

It’s all feeling a bit clinical and convenient. He can’t suddenly  _ fancy _ him  _ just _ because he’s found out he’s gay. Kisumi has a pretty face, a nice body, if Haru wants to objectify him like that. Haru’s not very good at objectifying. And maybe he should just go to sleep. He’s spinning himself in circles that he can’t comprehend.

But since he’s already in Kisumi’s bed, or on it, whatever, he’s not about to move to the futon on the floor. He shuts his eyes, listening to Kisumi’s breathing and feeling the warmth from his proximity. He’d usually want a blanket, but he’s not finding he needs one. It’s comfortable.

He awakes to Kisumi looking at him, propped up on his elbow, still lying on the bed where they fell asleep.

“Hey.”

Haru blinks, looking for his voice, but he’s still too tired to find it and gives up, grunting and closing his eyes again.

“Comfy?” Kisumi’s voice is quiet, gentle, it could send Haru back to sleep. “We don’t have to get up yet. Mako’s still snoring.”

Yeah, Haru can hear it, the low grumble he’s familiar with from having to  _ live _ with it. Kisumi’s fingers come up to brush Haru’s fringe from his forehead. Haru opens his eyes again. The touch is different. It’s not exuberant and overbearing like he usually is. For Haru, ever averse to being manhandled and generally  _ bothered _ , it’s a bit of a challenge to just lie here and accept it. Maybe, since it’s Kisumi, and since last night’s revelation, he should learn to enjoy this kind of thing.

“You need to use conditioner. All that chlorine makes your hair dry out. You’d be nice and soft and fluffy.”

“Like you, you mean?” Haru shuts his eyes again when he speaks. It’s like he can’t do both just yet. Trust Kisumi to start educating him about hair products.

Kisumi stops petting him now, but the next thing Haru knows, he’s been taken by the wrist and his hand moved up to Kisumi’s hair. He  _ is  _ soft, and fluffy, and it’s  _ nice _ to run his fingers through the pastel pink curls, combing them out and then coiling them around his finger.

_ Nice _ , Haru thinks again, but then Kisumi lets go of his wrist. It happens quickly, after that, and Haru doesn’t know  _ how _ Kisumi does it, but he’s suddenly got both of Haru’s wrists pinned to the mattress above his head, and his waist pinned between Kisumi’s thighs.

“Heh,” Kisumi huffs a little laugh. Haru realises his face is probably betraying his resolve, and he settles into a bored look. “Oh, stop it.”

Haru looks away.

Kisumi gets his attention back with a chaste kiss to his lips. Haru’s eyes go wide. Kisumi sits up, then, releasing Haru’s hands who come, against his will and better judgement, to sit on Kisumi’s hips.

He’s trying to look sure of himself, Haru realises, but can see uncertainty and something else lingering in his violet eyes. Haru’s never been great at reading expressions, body language, or even just  _ getting the hint _ when it’s handed to him on a silver platter, but Kisumi seems easy to read in this moment. He wants assurance. He wants to know that what he just did was  _ ok _ , and can they maybe do it  _ again _ ?

Haru allows himself to smile, just a little, and his thumbs draw circles on Kisumi’s waist. Kisumi’s face relaxes. It’s unspoken, but  _ yes _ , maybe it  _ is _ allowed. Haru’s not good at words, so maybe it’s better like this.

Haru waits by the exit doors as Kou’s train pulls in, hoping she’s got Makoto’s message and he won’t have to go running through the crowd of disembarking passengers to catch her up. If he’s honest, Haru thinks Kou can probably make it the whole twelve minute walk to their apartment by herself, but he doesn’t mind walking her there. Makoto’s asked, after all. How could he say no?

“Haruka-senpai!” she bounces up to him, and Haru catches her with an arm draped around her back as she hugs him in greeting.

“Hey. How was your trip?” he asks, and they settle into step with each other, her arm linking through his elbow.

She’s easy to walk with. She’s like Makoto, and it’s probably why those two get along so well, she can just  _ talk _ and know that Haru is listening in his own special way, there’s no social pressure to respond at the correct points. She tells him about the new bakery that’s opened in Iwatobi - she’s brought a cake for dessert - and how the swim team are gearing up for prefecturals. He can’t remember the names of the new teammates, but he’ll probably learn them by the end of the weekend. Probably.

He’s noticing the weight of her arm through his more than he usually would. It’s the same way he used to walk with his Grandma, but it’s also the same way his parents walk together. How would Kisumi walk with him now, he wonders.

Probably not like this. It’s always the shorter person who links through the taller, and Haru certainly won’t be taking that leap. And anyway, it’s a bit too mundane for Kisumi. He spends half his time with his arm around Haru’s shoulders  _ anyway _ , and now that they’ve  _ kissed _ , Haru can’t see that situation letting up at  _ all _ .

Does it count as a first kiss if it’s just a peck on the lips? Haru had envisaged more tongue involved, and some kind of spark, or something. He’s a bit annoyed that Kisumi hasn’t tried to reach out to him all  _ week _ , and is getting the feeling that maybe he’s supposed to take some initiative. He’s never taken the initiative before. He’s never,  _ ever _ , sent the first text to  _ anyone _ for just a ‘chat’. He doesn’t chat over text in general. He accepts instructions and occasionally asks Makoto something or other. Maybe it’ll give him something to do while he’s hiding out in his bedroom all weekend, so Makoto and Kou can have privacy.

They make it home before Makoto, of course, that was the whole point in Haru meeting Kou after all. He’s running behind with some class stuff, but he’ll be back soon. Kou has helped herself to the kitchen to make tea and put the cake she brought in the fridge, and Haru has put her weekend bag in Makoto’s bedroom.

It’s not their first weekend together, not by any means, but it’s only the second time she’s stayed here instead of Makoto going home to see her.

“I’m home!” Makoto calls through the hallway. “Sorry I’m so late.”

He’s taking off his shoes as he walks through to the reception room, and Kou is waiting impatiently for him to stand still and upright so he can pounce on him. Their kiss is passionate. They’ve missed each other, and they hug each other tightly while Makoto talks over Kou’s head to Haru.

“Did you have any plans tonight?” he asks. Haru shakes his head. “Good!”

There’s the sound of movement down the hall, and then Kisumi saunters into the room, dodging the couple, and slinking over to Haru on the couch. He drapes over him, like he  _ does _ and it’s  _ annoying _ , except this time it’s kinda not.

“Play out with me,” he demands.

“Um...” because  _ um _ , Haru hasn’t played out since he was about nine an decided that the swings were definitely not as much fun as the pool.

“I need a clubbing buddy.”

“ _ What _ ?” Haru doesn’t club. Haru’s never been to a club in his  _ life _ .

“ _ Pleeeeease _ ,” Kisumi purrs in his ear, face too close, close enough to kiss, if he wanted to. Maybe if he wasn’t tangled in the shock of  _ clubbing _ . “It’ll be fun!”

Haru says nothing.

“And then we can have a sleepover!”

... That changes things.

“I can’t believe you agreed to this,” Makoto chuckles quietly, mostly to himself, as Haru sits like a statue while Kou’s doing something to his eyelashes.

Neither can Haru, really, but Kisumi hasn’t stopped  _ smiling _ for like an hour, and that makes him feel a little but more ok with throwing away his dignity like this.

“ _ These ones _ , Haru!” Kisumi practically squeaks, holding up some black jeans he’s pilfered from Haru’s room.

“Are those Rin’s?” Kou asks, eyeing them.

“Probably,” Makoto says. Kou’s currently got Haru’s mouth occupied with something pink and sticky. “He gave Haru a bunch of clothes he wasn’t taking to Australia with him, since they’re about the same size and Haru never shops.”

The jeans fit like Haru likes things to fit, skin tight. He finds the ripped thighs a bit drafty, though, so he’s never really worn them. Kou finds him a t-shirt to wear with them, another one of Rin’s that was probably outgrown, seeing as it’s tight on Haru and he’s definitely not as wide in the shoulders as Rin. It’s black, again, Haru doesn’t usually wear so much black, he feels like he’s making a statement. Kisumi looks like he wants to eat him.

“I’d put actual money on you getting laid tonight, looking like that,” Kisumi says, quietly, just for Haru. Like it’s a secret.

Which it probably is.

Anything Haru could say in response would probably be stupid, or embarrassing, something like  _ only if it’s you _ , and so he chooses to say nothing. He’s never flirted before, and knows so little about the subject that he couldn’t even say if he’d  _ been _ flirted with, in the past, but Kisumi’s face has  _ flirt _ written all over it, and Haru tries to mirror the expression. Like an invitation. Kisumi flushes and settles into a grin.

“Don’t worry, Mako-chan. I’ll look after him,” Kisumi says next, arm around Haru like he’s ready to lead him away. “Don’t wait up!”

“We won’t,” Makoto and Kou both say. They’ve moved to be together on the couch.

“Have fun, be safe, and all that,” Makoto adds. He’s touching Kou now, hands sliding up her back. Haru knows they need to leave imminently.

“You too!” Kisumi trills, throwing them a wink.

Haru only roughly knows where the clubs are in their area of the city. He’s been past them, accidentally, during the daytime when they’ve had the shutters down and the neon lights turned off. He doesn’t  _ do _ clubs. The swim club, sure, and yes he gets half naked and wet, but it’s not the same as a  _ night _ club. Especially not the one Kisumi’s taking them too.

“So I’ve never been here before,” Kisumi says. They’re walking closer than Haru would usually prefer, but he’s doing a lot of things he’d usually not do, and they all involve Kisumi, so this is a small transgression, compared to the mascara.

“I thought you were into this kind of thing?”

“Oh I’ve been to all the others. But this one’s a bit more special. It’s just for people like us.”

“ _ Us _ ,” Haru repeats.

“It’s a gay club... I’ve never had anyone to go with before.”

“Are you looking to meet someone?” Haru asks, feeling... strange.

“Nah,” Kisumi says easily. “I’ve already got someone to take home.” He winks and throws an arm around Haru’s shoulders. “I just want to go out and be gay and be myself, for a bit. I want to see men kissing men like it’s normal.”

As always when he doesn’t know what to say, he says nothing. Maybe it says enough that he doesn’t try to shrug Kisumi off of him, like he would have done a week ago.

They reach the doors, a neon rainbow archway, and Haru steels himself for the expected onslaught of sound. He’s not great at loud, or crowds, and inside it’s too dark yet all the lights there are are too bright. It smells like alcohol and cheap aftershave. Haru feels a bit sick.

“So I know you don’t usually drink, but it’s on me if you’re feeling adventurous,” Kisumi leans in and shout-whispers into his ear. They find somewhere to sit with a view of the dance floor.

“Surprise me.”

“Huh?” Kisumi nudges him, gets even  _ closer _ , and Haru guesses he’s gonna have to raise his voice.

“I said surprise me,” he repeats. Kisumi’s hair tickles his face when he leans up to his ear.

Kisumi comes back from the bar with two tall glasses of something pink that’s probably going to be far too sweet for Haru’s tastes, but he says his thanks and takes the drink. Kisumi sits next to him on the bench, arm spread out along the back of it, behind Haru.

“What’s this?” Haru asks, Kisumi’s hair tickling him again.

“It’s called a love potion. Strawberries and champagne and cream and... I kinda stopped listening after strawberries, to be honest. They’re my favourite.”

Haru holds his eye while he takes a sip. It’s too sweet. “It’s good.” It’s not, but he’s eaten Makoto’s cooking enough times to be able to smile his way through a bad taste.

“I wonder if it works?” Kisumi muses, fitting his arm around Haru now. “What do you think of the place?”

“Not my scene,” Haru says, honestly. “Is it what you wanted?”

“Yeah. Look,” Kisumi nods and gestures his drink towards the dance floor, and Haru follows his gaze.

Two guys, probably their age, hold each others’ waists and sway together, ducking in occasionally for simple kisses. It’s sweet, not as sexy as some of the guys grinding on each other. Maybe they’re on a date, not just here for a hook up. And Kisumi just wanted to see something like this? Well, whatever makes him feel better.

Haru doesn’t really know what to do. Should he ask him to dance? Haru doesn’t dance. Or maybe Kisumi is happy to just sit here and watch. He’s put his drink down now, and put his hand on Haru’s thigh to finger the frayed slashes in his jeans. Is he flirting or fidgeting? Haru’s never been touched like this before, and doesn’t know how to react. Maybe he should have read  _ Dates for Dummies _ before they came out.

“Dance with me,” Kisumi purrs.

“No.”

“Come  _ on _ , dance with me.”

Haru looks away, but Kisumi follows, nose poking at his cheek.

“Let me finish my drink.”

That was probably a pretty dumb thing to say, because as soon as Haru’s empty glass hits the table, Kisumi’s hand is in his and he’s being hauled across the room. Haru  _ doesn’t  _ dance. He has no idea what he’s doing, just tapping a foot and leaving his hands on Kisumi’s shoulders where they’ve been placed. Kisumi, however,  _ does _ dance. Not well, not like he’s had lessons, but he has rhythm and is moving against Haru with the music, all of his limbs moving in sync, like he’s swimming. He’s all happy and relaxed and...  _ free _ .

Ah, fuck it. Haru’s a huge sucker for anything freestyle. He links his hands together behind Kisumi’s neck and lets himself be swayed, lets himself be brought closer, bodies brushing against each other as they move.

“Having fun?” Kisumi’s hands slide down to Haru’s hips, bringing him close enough to hear.

“I guess.”

“Want another drink?”

“Let me choose, this time.”

Haru wishes the  _ Creamsicle _ or the  _ French Kiss _ had flavours he might actually like. The  _ Zombie _ doesn’t have much of a flirt going for it in it’s name, but it’s got pineapple, and that matters more to Haru than seeing Kisumi blush right now.

Two drinks in, Haru’s feeling his hips move more and his head is nodding a little. Kisumi’s less affected by the alcohol, unsurprisingly, but he’s grinning at Haru like he’s had twice as much. His hands keep wandering to the hem of Haru’s tight t-shirt, playing at it like he’s going to slide his way up it. Haru keeps feeling his fingertips brush against the bare skin of his hips, and something shudders through him.

“Ready to go home?” Kisumi mewls against Haru’s ear, lips brushing over his cheek when he pulls away.

He’s long past ready to go. Kisumi’s hand is in Haru’s back pocket as they leave the club, stepping out into the late spring night. It’s dark, and there’s a sobering chill without jackets, but they’re close enough to share body heat. The rattle of the train annoys Haru’s head, and he’s a little fuzzy. Some would call it drunk, if he was a different person. He lets his head come down to Kisumi’s shoulder, something stable to rest it on.

“Can I get you anything?” Kisumi asks, hands on Haru’s shoulders and walking behind him into the flat.

“Uh, water?”

“Probably a good idea. Sit down, relax.”

Haru’s pushed down into the seat, and Kisumi kisses his cheek. It’s less flirtatious, and more comforting. A step back from where they were half an hour ago, pressed against each other.

“Here,” Kisumi hands him a big glass with water that’s been chilled in the fridge, just like Haru likes it.

Haru glugs it down without a breath.

“Thanks.”

“Wow. That’s some swallowing skill you’ve got.”

“You would know,” Haru quips. Kisumi bumps their knees, teasing.

Haru’s flirting, he realises, and when has Haru ever,  _ ever  _ in his  _ life _ flirted with  _ anyone _ before. And yet here he is, with  _ Kisumi _ of all people, Kisumi who’s done nothing but annoy him up until six days ago. Kisumi who’s leaning close, now, expectant, and Haru’s aware that if he doesn’t follow through, just how upset Kisumi might be.

He tilts his head slightly, letting Kisumi know it’s ok, and Kisumi closes the gap. Their lips are closed, at first, but as they both gain confidence it becomes something more. Open mouths and flickering tongues.

Haru decides he likes kissing.

They make it to bed innocently enough, Kisumi tucking himself around Haru, making a lap with his knees for Haru to press back into.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” he murmurs into Haru’s hair.

Haru’s thoroughly conditioned, blow dried and combed hair, courtesy of Kisumi and his bathroom.

Haru just hums a response. It’s too much to both cuddle  _ and _ talk right now. He squeezes Kisumi’s hand that’s pulled up to his chest. It means  _ keep talking _ , he likes the reverberation of his voice. Kisumi understands.

“We usually - Asahi and I - go to some of the student places near campus. It’s always a bit awkward... the girls used to come to me and not him, and he never understood why I wasn’t interested.”

“Never take a pretty boy for your wingman,” Haru mutters. Kisumi kisses his neck.

“Did you just call me pretty, Haru?”

“You  _ know _ you’re pretty. You don’t need me to say it.”

“It’s nice to hear it from someone other than my mother.”

Their legs tangle. Haru makes his head comfortable on Kisumi’s bicep.

“I think you’re pretty, too.”

“Goodnight, Kisumi.”

Kisumi comes with Makoto, Haru and Kou to the train station on Sunday afternoon, with a backpack big enough for an overnight stay. Haru gives it a questioning look.

“I don’t have classes on Mondays, so I usually go home for dinner on Sundays.”

“That seems like a lot of effort.”

“I quite like the travel. It makes me study. And then I get to see my little brother and my mum cooks for me. It’s nice.” Kisumi puts his arm around Haru’s shoulders when they come to a standstill on the platform.

Huh. Haru hadn’t expected that. It’s another one of those things that he’s not seen from Kisumi before, and maybe this is what he meant by being  _ himself _ , someone who’s actually quite kind and sweet, and not a tornado of outlandish affection and show, as Haru’s always known him. If this is the real Kisumi, the one that’s been hiding under this fear of homophobia, or something, then Haru’s not averse to knowing him some more.

Kou and Kisumi sit across from each other at a table seat on the train, and Makoto steps up to Haru.

“I get the feeling neither of them are going to be doing much studying on their way home, huh?” Makoto says lightly.

“Conspiring against us?” Haru asks. He raises his hand to wave at them, allowing himself a smile.

“Definitely. Mischief, both of them. Come one, Haru-chan, tell me about your weekend.”

Kisumi sends Haru a text after classes every day, chatting idly at Haru about his day, and asking about his. Haru’s even started to get a bubble of excited anticipation at about 4pm, when he gets home, and plugs his phone in so it’s ready for his evening’s conversation. Makoto smiles knowingly at him. He’s been doing that a lot this week, even though Haru refuses to answer any of his questions.

But when it gets to 6:30 on Friday and Haru’s phone hasn’t made a peep, he can’t help but frown at it.

“Maybe you should say  _ hi _ first, Haru-chan,” Makoto says pleasantly,  _ knowingly _ .

Haru supposes he’s right. Phone fully charged, he retreats to his bedroom.

_ hi _ , he texts. Just  _ hi _ , no emojis or pictures or any of the nonsense Kisumi always laces his texts with.

And Kisumi, who’s never taken more than thirty seconds to reply to Haru, takes a whole ten minutes to text back.

_ Come to dinner with me. I’ll pick you up in twenty. _

Um. It feels aggressive, like a demand, like Haru doesn’t have a choice in the matter. He gets the looming feeling that maybe Kisumi’s had a  _ bad day _ . He’s never seen him be upset before.

_ Ok _ .

“I’m going out for dinner,” Haru tells Makoto, eighteen minutes later.

“Is Kisumi ok?”

“I’m not sure,” Haru says, honestly. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Just listen, Haru.”

There’s a car horn honking outside, impatiently. It must be Kisumi. Haru’s never been in the car with him before. They’ve always stuck to the train or walking distance. But rush hour has passed, and maybe he wants the privacy of his own vehicle instead of a Friday night train to wherever he wants to go and eat.

“See you later,” Haru says over his shoulder as he leaves. Makoto waves, giving his best supportive smile.

Kisumi’s car is a bit old and grumbly, and it smells like fresh sweet popcorn. It’s his family’s old one, still with a child seat anchored into the back for if he ever takes Hayato out.

“People are gonna think you’re a sexy single dad with that in the back,” Haru aims for humor, hoping to soften Kisumi’s mood.

“Sexy, huh?” but Kisumi’s not smiling. “I know it’s not your scene, but I  _ really _ want a big, bad, greasy burger. And a milkshake.”

“Sounds like a cheap date,” and Kisumi smiles this time. “Anything you want.”

“Thanks, Haru,” Kisumi finds his hand and squeezes it.

Kisumi parks up at an American style diner. It’s like something out of a movie, all pink and white stripes and big comfy booths to sit in. Kisumi’s long legs bump Haru’s under the table, and their knees slot together. They don’t speak as they peruse the menu and order their meals, but Haru’s not going to push it. Kisumi will talk to him if he wants to. Haru’s familiar with the comfort that quiet companionship can bring.

There’s a couple of times when Haru thinks Kisumi is about to open up, where he looks up and makes a move to speak, before locking his jaw shut and glaring out of the window, clenching his fists on the table. It’s hard to watch, he’s always so jovial, and this stark contrast is a bit shocking to Haru.

Whatever’s happened, or whatever’s been said, Haru’s just as angry with it as Kisumi is.

The burger isn’t great, but the curly fries are seasoned well. Kisumi’s cheeks hollow as he sucks the straw of his milkshake. Haru kind of wants to kiss him.

“What do you want to do after this?” Haru asks.

“You?” Kisumi’s eyes look like they’re trying to sparkle at him, but he’s clearly not really in the mood for a joke. Haru gives him a smirk for his efforts. “I don’t know. I just want to watch bad TV and cuddle. Sorry I’m not much fun today.”

Haru shakes his head, Kisumi doesn’t need to be apologising. “Sorry I’m not very good at the whole comforting thing. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nope,” Kisumi says easily. “Don’t wanna think about it. Distract me.”

Haru can think of a couple of ideas to do that. “Come back to my place, then. We have icecream.”

And also, Makoto is way better at this kind of thing than Haru.

Haru gets the bill. Kisumi promises to get the next one.

The journey back to Haru’s isn’t as quiet, but it’s Haru doing most of the talking, telling Kisumi about his morning art theory class and his afternoon swim training. . At least swimming is Haru’s easiest topic of conversation. He can probably talk for ten years about swimming if Kisumi needed him too.

Kisumi finds a parking space on a nearby side street instead of paying for their complex’s lot. Haru has no idea if he and Makoto have a parking permit they can lend him, anyway, but it’s only a two minute walk to the building. Kisumi’s hands twitch at his sides, like he’s thinking of reaching out and holding one of Haru’s, or putting them on his hips or around his shoulders. But he doesn’t.

“Makoto, I’m home. I brought Kisumi. I hope that’s ok.”

“Welcome home, Haru-chan. How are you, Kisumi?” Makoto’s in his favourite chair with his laptop, playing a game, but he closes it and slides it under the couch for safety, to sit up and look hospitable. “Do you want a drink? I’ll make some tea.”

“Sit,” Haru nudges Kisumi towards the couch.

“You too, Haru -chan,” Makoto gives Haru a pat on the back as he passes them to the kitchen. “I’ll do this.”

Haru gets the hint.  _ Sit with him _ . So he does, close, legs touching, and waits for Kisumi’s hold to envelope him and their legs to tangle together, in the way they do on Kisumi’s couch, two lazy Saturday mornings in a row now, watching bad anime and running fingers through each other’s hair.

“Uh... does Makoto know?” Kisumi asks quietly. “About...?” he gestures between them, about  _ us _ , whatever the hell they are these days.

Haru shrugs. “I think he’s probably figured it out. Does that bother you?”

“Does that bother  _ you _ ?”

“No,” Haru says, easily, and figures he’s going to have to be the one to touch Kisumi first if he’s going to be so weird and suddenly uncomfortable. “Come here?” he asks, testing the words in his mouth as he says them.

Haru leans into the corner of the couch and guides Kisumi’s head to his chest, arms wrapping around him. Kisumi sighs, as if letting out the tension that’s been building up inside him, and he relaxes against Haru at last.

“You’re ok,” Haru says like it’s a promise.

Makoto puts mugs of tea down on their little coffee table between the couch and the chair and reclaims his seat, flicking on the TV. He finds a show that Haru knows both Makoto and Kisumi enjoy, and Haru couldn’t care either way. They make it through an episode quickly, Haru losing time to playing with Kisumi’s hair, and Makoto clears his throat during the end credits.

“So, did something happen at basketball, Kisumi?” he asks.

Haru feels Kisumi scowl. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Know what people are thinking.”

“Annoying, isn’t it,” Haru chimes in, giving Makoto a thankful smile that they’re probably going to get to the bottom of Kisumi’s drama.

Kisumi sighs. “There was something, but it’s been a shit day all together, and it just sent me over the edge. I got up late, ran out of milk, forgot my book for class, missed like three shots at practice, and then the guys were like  _ hey let’s go out to karaoke with the girl’s team _ , and I said  _ nah _ , because I just wasn’t in the mood, you know? And then this one guy said  _ what, you gay or something _ , and I just froze.”

“Sounds rough,” Makoto soothes. “I guess you’ve not come out to them, yet.”

“Well I have  _ now _ ,” Kisumi grumbles. “Or I guess they’ve probably guessed, considering I just stood there and stared like an idiot and then got the hell out.”

He’s tense in Haru’s arms, and Haru’s really not great with this kind of thing. He doesn’t quite understand why his teammates knowing Kisumi likes dick is such a big deal to him, but it obviously is, so he tries his best to hug him harder.

“I could have said literally  _ anything _ and it wouldn’t be such an issue.  _ No thanks, kinda seeing someone,  _ or,  _ nah, been a bad day. _ Anything! And what’s worse is that I’m really annoyed with myself for not being strong enough to flaunt the truth! I’m trying to be more true to myself, it’s why I told you guys, but I’m such a fucking coward, and -”

“Hey, Kis... calm down.” Makoto comes to kneel by them. “I don’t think you need to worry about any negativity from them, they’re your teammates, right? They love you. And everything else, you can just take it one step at a time.”

Makoto gets up again, running a hand through Kisumi’s hair and giving Haru a look of encouragement. Trying to tell him that he’s doing just fine, or maybe that everything will be ok.

“I’m gonna go to the store. Do either of you want anything?”

“Cookies,” Kisumi grumbles.

Haru shakes his head. He knows Makoto is only heading out to give them a little alone time.

“Are you spending the night, Kisumi?” Makoto asks.

Kisumi glances at Haru. “Maybe?”

“Sure,” Haru says easily. He’d been hoping for this.

They cuddle quietly for a few minutes after Makoto has gone, gradually touching more and more of each other, lips coming to press at bare patches of skin.

“Are you feeling better?” Haru asks, lifting his lips from Kisumi’s shoulder.

“Hmm, I could still use some  _ distraction _ ,” Kisumi teases, rolling in Haru’s arms so he’s on top of him.

“Oh?” Haru asks, slipping his hands just inside Kisumi’s t-shirt, holding his waist.

Their eyes meet and it’s silent as Kisumi comes down to kiss him, a little hesitation at the edges but quickly becoming comfortable and passionate. Haru’s releived to feel him like this again. He likes upset Kisumi even less than he likes flamboyant Kisumi. But this Kisumi that’s just his, just when they’re alone together, he’s becoming quite attached to.

Their kisses die down slightly to something sweeter, less like their ravishing each other and more like they’re just happy to be together. It’s good timing, because Makoto is back the next minute, slowly announcing himself and spending more time than he needs to taking his shoes off, probably so they can put themselves back together if they need to. Kisumi’s still lying on top of Haru, but it’s ok. Consider it payback for all the times Haru’s walked in on Makoto and Kou.

“I’ll leave a towel and some things on Haru’s bed for you, Kisu-chan,” Makoto says, peeking into the living room and then disappearing down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Don’t be naked when I get back.”

“Oh my god, Makoto,” Kisumi whines, rolling himself off of Haru and thudding onto the floor.

“I’m going for a bath, anyway,” Haru decides. He considers inviting Kisumi, but he’d actually like half an hour to settle down and  _ sort himself out _ .

Haru sinks into the hot water, glad of the relieving comfort on his muscles. He’s a bit worn out, socially, it’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him this evening, and he needs a bit of space to recuperate. He can hear Makoto and Kisumi chating down the hall, probably about him, he can hear his name being thrown around, but that’s ok. Makoto’s been dying for details, and Haru’s not had his wits about him to give them.

He washes his hair with the stuff that Kisumi told him to buy, and lets the conditioner sit for the remainder of his bath, as instructed. Kisumi’s getting more under his skin than Haru had ever anticipated.

His favourite pyjamas are waiting for him on the floor of his bedroom, where he’d left them this morning, and he dries off his legs so he can pull them on. They’d been his favourite thing about hanging out with Kou more, when he’d spotted them in the women’s section whilst shopping with her and Makoto one day. Knee length cotton jersey leggings, black, low rise to sit just below his hip bones. Just like jammers, but for  _ bed _ . He leaves his towel around his shoulders, because Kisumi likes to dry his hair.

The living room falls silent when Haru goes back in, except for maybe the sound of Kisumi’s jaw hitting the floor as he rakes his eyes over Haru. Haru realises he’s being thoroughly  _ checked out _ , and he’s kinda enjoying watching Kisumi’s eyes flash over him. From an artistic perpective, he’s probably being helped by the frame of the doorway and the light behind him, but all the same, it’s flattering.

And then Kisumi throws a scowl at Makoto.

“Is he  _ testing _ me?” Kisumi demands.

Makoto laughs airily. “Honestly, that’s just his pjs.”

“ _ Pjs _ ?! Oh my god, how can you be so straight with him around?!”

Makoto waves his hand in the air and throws a long suffering glance at the ceiling. “Swim club practice. Honestly, it’s worse when it’s lycra.”

“ _ Worse _ ?!”

“Excuse me,” Haru interjects, mildly amused but doing his best to look bored. Kisumi squeaks when Haru sits next to him.

“Hi,” Kisumi breathes, leaning in. The kiss is chaste, mostly for Makoto’s benefit. “Let me do your hair.”

“Is this for me?” Kisumi asks, reaching for the folded towel on Haru’s bed with one hand, still holding Haru’s hand in the other, which Haru had forcibly taken after Makoto had told them to  _ get a room, seriously _ .

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I guess so. Do you need anything else?” Haru lets him go and goes to put his used towel in the hamper.

Kisumi’s grin is  _ lecherous _ when Haru turns back around. He’s dangling something in the air, one in each hand.

Condoms and lube.  _ Makoto _ ...

“Oh my god...” Haru starts, and then he’s snatched into a kiss, Kisumi laughing around his mouth.

“I mean, I appreciate his intentions,” because Makoto always has the best intentions, “but, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’m quite ready...”

“I agree,” Haru gulps, even though he kind of is, but at the same time he’s happy to wait for Kisumi, if that’s what he needs from him.

Kisumi’s hands settle on Haru’s hips, and he bites his lip, that anxious expression creeping back again. “Can we talk about something?”

“Sure,” Haru tries to look placid, but these kind of  _ we need to talk _ situations are one of his worst fears.

“What are we doing? Like... I didn’t think you even liked me all that much, and.. is this just because it’s convenient? Because we’re both gay and we know each other, because that’d be fine, if that’s what you want, I’m enjoying it... I just want to know where I stand.”

“What do you want?” Haru frowns.

“You?”

“Then have me.”

“Like... boyfriends?”

“Uh...” Haru considers the word, how it feels so serious, such new territory, for both of them. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says eventually.

“Me neither,” Kisumi smiles. “We’ll figure it out.”

And, that apparently settled, and Kisumi smiling all happy and relaxed again, Haru kisses him and stows Makoto’s gifts in his bedside drawer, for another time, perhaps.

Makoto shakes Haru awake the next morning, rocking him by the shoulder until he rolls away from Kisumi.

“Haru-chan, don’t forget you have training. It’s already after nine.”

Ah, shit. “Comfy.”

“Haru...” Makoto warns.

Haru knows he’s being a bit petulant, but these moments in the morning with Kisumi are probably his favourites. And also, with Kisumi’s aversion to people  _ knowing _ what they might be  _ doing _ , he’s a bit worried about how he’s feeling about Makoto walking in on them when they’re in bed and shirtless.

But then Kisumi rolls too, nesting his head on Haru’s chest, blinking awake.

“G’morning, Mako,” he mumbles. “Do as you’re told, Haru.”

“Good morning to you too,” Haru squeezes him. “Will you be here when I get back?”

“We have a lunch thing with manga club,” Makoto says on Kisumi’s behalf, and Haru is reminded that the pair of them are both just huge nerds underneath all that athleticism. “Also, you guys are adorable.”

“Your  _ presents _ were adorable,” Haru mutters sarcastically, peeling away from Kisumi and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, making a bit of a point to Makoto that he’s still wearing his shorts.

Makoto has the grace to blush, rubbing the back of his neck and choosing this moment to finally get out of Haru’s room. Kisumi lets out a little whine next to Haru, cringing a little at the memory, but he’s holding up well. Makoto is safe company, after all.

It’s both strange and comforting, the way their hands fit together so naturally, hidden by the drape of the tablecloth. Apparently his cousin Isshiki hasa fancy restaurant just out of town, and Kisumi’s managed to snag them a table on the balcony, overlooking the river. The family resemblence is spectacular, yet also slightly horrifying, and Haru’s sure Kisumi will be the same sort of eccentric whirlwind when he’s 30, too. Though hopefully with more clothes on. At least Haru has the sense to wear jammers under his apron.

“You really don’t have to pay for all of this,” Haru reminds Kisumi, for the third time.

“I owe you. And maybe I’m calling in some favours. And also, Isshi’s like my life coach. He’d be  _ offended _ if I didn’t bring my first date here.”

“Does he know it’s a date?” Haru asks, eyebrow raised.

“Well, no. But he will do. Family are next on the list.!

“So I  _ shouldn’t _ kiss you in public, yet?” Haru’s teasing, a surprising lilt creeping into his voice, but he can’t help it. He’s  _ happy _ .

“But then what would we do when we get home?”

“My place or yours?”

“Oh, mine, definitely. Much more room for activities.”

“What do you have in mind?” Haru asks calmly, biting down around the fish on his fork.

Kisumi looks like he’s about to choke, but he manages to get his steak down without dying.

“Oh, I’m sure we won’t get bored.”

Their texts this week have become increasingly suggestive, and Haru’s even had to google a few of the terms Kisumi’s been throwing out at him. His research has been thorough and he’s prepared, mentally, for whatever Kisumi might have in mind.

Haru just really,  _ really _ ,  **_really_ ** hopes he gets to touch Kisumi, properly, get him lying down and explore all his curves and angles. His imagination has been running wild and he’s sketching more than he has in months, and absolutely none of them are fit for public viewing. Yet they still lack detail, those intricacies that Haru needs to see and touch to truly understand. Also, he’s horny as hell.

Kisumi insists on dessert, mostly because he’s Kisumi, but also because the special is a strawberry cheesecake he can’t resist. And maybe he’s stalling, just a little, or maybe that’s just Haru being pessimistic.

The drive home feels significantly longer than the drive out, and Haru realises he needs to calm the hell down, and that he’s probably expecting too much. Just because  _ he’s _ so nonchalant and ready for the so-called  _ next step _ doesn’t mean Kisumi is. If he’d been asked, maybe last month, which of the two of them would be most eager to jump into bed with someone, Haru would have definitely said Kisumi, the perpetual flirt and a thousand times more popular and desirable than Haru’s ever hoped to be. And yet, here he is, hands twitching in his lap in a bid to stop them tracing over Kisumi’s thighs as he drives.

Just what has gotten  _ into him _ ?!

“Your hand’s all sweaty,” Haru comments as they wind through the corridors to get to Kisumi’s apartment, unsure of  _ when _ , exactly, they started holding hands in the first place since getting out of the car.

“Maybe I’m nervous,” Kisumi mutters.

He turns the key in the lock and pushes through the door, dragging Haru behind him with a sudden determination, but it only lasts as far as the bedroom door, where he freezes.

“What are we doing?” he asks, hesitating, and Haru steps up behind him to just  _ touch _ him.

“Moving to the couch?” Haru suggests, letting his hands come to settle on Kisumi’s waist where he likes them.

He guides him into the seat and climbs into his lap, knees straddling his thighs and hands on his shoulders. Kisumi’s still frozen, all but his eyes, which are practically quivering with the state of his nerves.

“Kisumi...” Haru says quietly, cupping his jaw. “We don’t have to do anything different. Just kiss me.”

“I  _ want _ to, though,” it’s almost a snap, but Kisumi isn’t quite capable of the aggression right now, or maybe ever, because he’s Kisumi, after all. “I just... feel very  _ gay _ , and not in a good way, thinking about... well. Butt stuff, you know? It’s like I can  _ hear _ the locker room taunts right now, about bending over and taking it up the -”

Haru stops him. “Kisumi...” he can see it on his face, now that he’s looking for it, something that’s been left out of their nightly texts and their earlier banter. “What happened?”

“ _ Nothing _ ,” Kisumi hisses, but his breath hitches and Haru can taste the lie in his words.

“Kisumi...”

“Stop  _ saying _ that -”

“But I don’t know what else to  _ say _ !”

They both look away, hands falling from each other, both breathing deeply to calm themselves down. Haru’s well aware that he’s out of his depth right now. He slides to the floor, crouching in front of Kisumi’s knees.

“What happened?” he tries again.

Kisumi sighs. “So apparently some of the guys from basketball have a group chat, without the rest of us... and they were saying some things, not  _ necessarily _ about me, but... and I just...”

Haru rubs circles on his knees and then sets his head in kisumi’s lap. “It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just...”

“What?” Kisumi’s voice sounds like fear.

“Don't hide these things from me. Let me help.”

Bedtime comes later than usual for them. Kisumi’s curled into Haru’s side, arms around each other, quietly watching mindless tv. Kisumi’s grunted and flicked off his basketball anime with a huff, choosing something with action and violence he’d never usually go for. It’s into the early hours when Kisumi declares he’s  _ probably tired enough to stop overthinking _ , and pulls Haru by the hand to his room.

Haru strips and goes to find his sleep shorts in his bag. He can feel Kisumi watching him, sitting on his bed with his t-shirt slid halfway up his chest.

“How can you just walk around like that, like it’s no big deal? You’re driving me crazy.”

“Like what?” Haru asks, giving up digging in the bag and coming to empty the whole thing out on the bed.

“Like the sexiest man alive?” Kisumi rolls his eyes. “I’m really sorry about earlier. Do you want to...?”

Yes, yes he  _ does _ , but only if Kisumi is ok with it. As much or as little as he wants.

“Let me help you with that,” he says, reaching for Kisumi’s shirt and pulling it all the way off. It looks like he’s not packed his pyjamas, anyway. He sweeps his things to the floor and pushes Kisumi onto his back. “What do you have in mind?”

Kisumi swallows, but he holds Haru’s gaze,more confident this time. “Hands, maybe. Let’s not rush into things.”

Haru, who generally dives into everything he takes with heart, body and soul, nods his agreement. “Whatever you want.”

Haru waits at the station for Makoto to get in from Iwatobi, after dropping Kisumi for his train home. They hadn’t kissed, or even touched, when they said goodbye, and Haru figures that’s just what Kisumi’s comfortable with right now. He wonders if he should be more put out by it, because he doesn’t  _ want _ to be a secret, but Kisumi’s feelings on  _ gay _ are in much greater turmoil than Haru’s.

“So I think he’s more worried about what people  _ could _ say, or think, than what they actually  _ are _ saying, or thinking. I don’t really think anyone cares.” Haru tells Makoto on their walk home, deciding that reaching out for advice is probably his best course of action.

“What do I do?” Haru stops in his tracks, Makoto turning back to him with a soft smile.

“Just be patient. I know he’s struggling at the moment, but I think, overall, he’s the happiest he’s been in a long time. And I think that’s thanks to you. He’s always liked you.”

“But what if he finds someone else? Someone -” Haru has a flash of jealousy, of black school uniforms and Kisumi’s arm around Makoto’s shoulders.

“It’s a risk we all take. What if Kou meets someone at school, or in her univeristy? What if I meet someone? He’s always liked you, Haru.”

Haru squashies his jealous memories before they can take hold, looking for the feeling of trust and going with the flow he feels when he’s in the water, trying to embrace it with something, someone, other than swimming for once.

Haru had honestly forgotten that Asahi lives in the same building as Kisumi, so really it’s no surprise that he should run into him at some oint, now that he’s here quite regularly. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and Haru’s on his way to Kisumi’s from the pool, mostly because he’s starving and Kisumi’s place is so much closer to Hidaka than the apartment he shares with Makoto that’s central for both of them, but also because it’s been like, forty eight hours since he’s seen Kisumi, and for some stupid reason, he misses him.

He’s been walking with Asahi most days after they’ve been training, just because they both go in the same direction and it would be a bit rude and awkward not to, but Asahi’s suddenly stopped talking, and Haru gives him a look.

“Uh, haven’t you missed your turning?” Asahi asks, looking concerned.

Haru shrugs. “I’m going to Kisumi’s.”

“Oh, that’s... weird, coming from you.”

Haru shrugs again. “Is it?”

“Yeah, you kinda hate him, right?”

“I’ve never  _ hated _ him. He’s annoying, but...” Haru drifts off, considering his words, wondering what Kisumi would like him to say. “We’re friends and stuff,” he says, deciding that  _ stuff _ just about sums it up.

“Oh, cool, I’ll come too!”

Haru hopes his internal groan isn’t audible, but he suspects it might be.

Kisumi’s doing his best not to look disappointed to see Asahi standing at the door with Haru when they knock. Haru does his best to look sorry.

“So I hear,” Asahi starts, barging his way in like he owns the place and going straight for Kisumi’s kitchen, “that  _ you’re _ doing dinner tonight. Thanks, Kisumi.”

“No problem. Thanks for inviting yourself over, you shouldn’t have,” Kisumi says, full of sarcasm, rolling his eyes. “Hey,” he says to Haru, touching him just a little bit on the waist, but backing off immediately.

So apparently he’s not up for gaying together in front of Asahi. It’s probably for the best, since Asahi is liable to take photos and live-stream their every move if he thinks there’s going to be  _ gossip _ involved, but whatever. Haru can be more upset about it after a snack. He joins Asahi in the kitchen, and Kisumi just goes to the couch to sigh at them.

“There’s rice in the cooker and some leftover meat in the fridge. And the oranges need eating,” he tells them, flicking on his show on the tv.

Haru sits next to him, balancing his drink in one hand and moving Kisumi’s legs out of the way with the other, before Asahi gets done with picking at the chicken and takes his spot.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, nudging Kisumi’s knee with his.

“He does this  _ all _ the time, it’s fine,” Kisumi sighs. “Are you comfortable with...” he leaves the question open, letting Haru figure it out.

“In front of...?” Haru nods towards the kitchen, where Asahi is just finishing his mini banquet.

Kisumi nods, a bit of a blush creeping up his neck.

It’s hardly a public display of affection, considering it’s in Kisumi’s own home, but it’s their first real act of being  _ out, together _ , in front of anyone but Makoto, and Makoto’s pretty much clairvoyant, so he doesn’t count.

Kisumi leans over for a kiss, just a little peck on the lips that makes them both feel less annoyed and less anxious, and figures he may as well take a nap while those two watch their basketball. He scoots down the couch so he can lie back with his head in Kisumi’s lap, legs dangling over the arm at the other end. Kisumi pets his hair, a big smile looking down at him, and it’s  _ nice _ .

“Uh...” Asahi comes into the lounge. He takes in the scene, and Kisumi is almost shaking with nerves. “You’re so full of shit, Nanase.  _ Friends and stuff _ . I’d have gone home if I’d known you were here for a booty call.”

“It’s not a...!” Kisumi squeals, but Asahi’s laughing, sitting in the chair completely unbothered.

“Relax. Let me see the end of this episode and then you guys can gay it up to your hearts' content. And now I know why he won’t stop talking about you, Haru, and why he’s been even more happy and annoying than usual. Dammit, you’re so cute, let me take a picture.”

“No,” Haru says, because they all know he hates pictures, just as Kisumi says  _ yes _ .

“Two against one. Don’t fucking move.”

The picture is sweet, Haru supposes, and it’s even sweeter than Kisumi immediately sets it as his phone’s background. Haru would do the same, but he chose his phone purely because the default wallpaper is a view of the sea, like it had been  _ fate _ , after he’d lost his last one  _ in _ the sea, so he’s not about to change it now.

It feels like an age before Asahi finally buggers off, or maybe he’s just getting impatient to get his hands on Kisumi. From the second Asahi had laughed and Kisumi had  _ relaxed _ , Haru’s been itching to touch him. Something about Kisumi being confident and comfortable has just turned him on, inexplicably, like he’s never been before.

Kisumi makes Haru move ( _ rude _ ) so he can walk Asahi to the door, but that’s fine, it would have been a bit of an awkward kissing angle, anyway.

“Come here?” he suggests, sitting up and holding his hand out, and when Kisumi takes it he guides him to straddle his lap, and his hands find their favourite space on his sides.

“Your sex face is something else, Haru,” Kisumi mumbles, almost wistfully.

“My what?” Haru’s about to start kissing just under Kisumi’s ear, with plans to move along his jaw until he finds his lips, but he catches him off guard.

“It’s really hot when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Haru asks.

“Like you want me.”

“Oh,” and, well, he  _ does _ .

Their kisses are hungry, and shirts quickly go flying. Haru loses his as he usually does, as fast as he can, but Kisumi is taking his time, slowly revealing more and more of his chest to Haru. Anticipation, or something.

Haru’s kisses move to Kisumi’s neck, Kisumi’s back arching to allow him to keep moving further and further down, a little gasp clamping down on a moan when Haru’s hands slide up and his fingers brush his nipples. He shifts them, realising just how  _ light _ Kisumi is, getting him on his back on the couch and leaning over him, making a move for their buttons and flies on their pants. He’s putty in his hands, arching and molding like clay with Haru’s every-

Haru has a sudden thought.

_ Clay _ .

“I need a minute,” he splutters, backing off and sinking to his knees to find his satchel, rifling through it for his sketchbook and pencils.

“Haru... what? You can’t just leave me like this,” Kisumi sounds almost  _ upset _ , but also looks mildly amused, propping himself up to see what Haru’s doing.

“I had an idea. Just...”

“An art thing?” Kisumi asks.

“Mm,” is all Haru manages for an answer as he sketches, adding in some arrows and explanations.

It’s just an  _ idea _ , after all, and he’s not figured out how to pull it off, but he knows what he wants, what he wants the  _ message _ to be, not so much the overall appearance.

“Right,” he says, stowing his things away.

Kisumi stares at him, before he shifts it into a smirk. “Remembered I’m here, huh?”

“I had a vision. You can’t ignore these things.”

“Uh huh.”

Haru’s always been creative, good with his hands. And, well, he’s on his knees  _ anyway _ .

“I want to try something.”

Clay is  _ expensive _ , and Haru winces as he makes his purchase at the craft shop the next morning after class, but he’s got his idea, and since he couldn’t sleep last night for  _ thinking about it _ , he’s got a better sketch of what he wants to do, too.

He’s felt the passion brewing for a little while now, and could probably put them blame on Kisumi, if he was being honest with himself. It’s different for Haru, to have an inspiration that’s not water based. He’s always struggled a little with human forms, but he’s been practicing, all those sketches building up to this. He has his details, now. He knows where the light shines and where the shadows fall on every inch of Kisumi’s skin.

Makoto watches from a safe distance that evening as Haru takes over their dining table. It’s probably not the  _ cleanest _ project he could be taking on, but whatever, Haru’s realised he kinda has a deadline to deal with. The summer humidity will melt his masterpiece if he doesn’t work quickly enough.

He half considers  _ not _ having his regular Friday with Kisumi. Swimming and school are eating up enough of his sculpting time as it is. But he’s hit a snag, and needs his model.

“You want me to what?” Kisumi asks, somewhere between disbelief and humour.

“Take your top off, first,” Haru tells him, clearing a space for Kisumi to stand near the table. The flat is a mess.

Kisumi does as he’s told, casting a bit of a worried look to the front door, in case Makoto and Kou come home. He comes over to Haru, letting Haru put him where he wants him. Feet shoulder width apart, twisting his was and turning as far as he can to look behind him without moving his feet, reaching out with his hand as if to grab something behind him.

Haru kisses him, just because he appreciates him, and sets about just  _ looking _ , filing the stance away to his memories, tracing his fingers over Kisumi’s shoulder blades as he sees how the muscles fall with this angle, and the creases in his waist, the arch of his ribs.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Kisumi tells him, amused smile on his face.

Haru thinks for a minute. “Could I? And can I use your phone? Your camera’s better than mine... and can we go where there’s some better light?”

Kisumi laughs, like Haru’s being cute or something. “Anything you want.”

Makoto and Kou return from their dinner date rather late, which is probably a good thing, because Kisumi’s only just got down from the chair Haru’s had him standing on while he takes pictures . He’s got him doing his second pose now, standing straight and looking forwards (and try and look  _ serious, Kisumi _ ) stepping out with one leg like he’s about to walk off, full of purpose.

“This place is disgusting,” Kou tells them, including Kisumi in her scalding, which is probably fair, since it’s kind of his fault for setting Haru’s inner artist off in the first place. “And why are you shirtless?”

“Haru’s on an art kick,” Makoto says as an explanation.

“Haru’s on an art kick,” Kisumi says for his, and goes to find his shirt.

Haru’s gone back to sculpting, briefly acknowledging Makoto and Kou’s goodnights and Kisumi’s occasional little nudges for attention, checking he’s ok, making him have a drink, touching him because he likes him.

He’s nearly finished. There are some delicate bits that need some drying time before he carries on, so he can finally stop for the night and pick it up again when Kisumi leaves later on Sunday. He owes him some attention, anyway. Haru turns to find him, expecting Kisumi to still be hanging out on the sofa with his laptop, but instead finds the laptop on the floor, and Kisumi asleep.

“Kis...” he gently rocks Kisumi by the shoulder to wake him, watching his eyes flicker open. “Kisi...” Haru considers the nickname, deciding he likes it.

“Hmm?” Kisumi’s groggy, reaching for Haru to hold on to.

“Let’s go to bed, ok?”

“Yeah... did you finish?”

Haru shakes his head, pushing Kisumi towards the bathroom to use it first while he gets them some drinks for the night. “But I’m done for the weekend, I promise.”

He’s feeling guilty, a bit like he’s been  _ using _ Kisumi, just for his image, and he tries to think of how to apologise, kind of hoping that the finished piece will speak for him.

Kisumi’s almost asleep again when Haru gets into his narrow bed, but aware enough to wrap himself around Haru, pillowing his head on Haru’s chest, and Haru holds him too, brushing little kisses on his forehead as he feels him fall asleep.

Cleaning noises wake Haru early on the next day, and his immediate reaction is to panic his way out of bed and into the lounge, only to find a five-foot radius of safety around his table. Kisumi follows him blindly, arms enveloping him from behind, and mumbling sleepily into his ear.

“What’s going on?”

“Just checking they weren’t cleaning up my stuff,” Haru says, catching sight of Makoto doing dishes and Kou carrying a laundry basket back to Makoto’s room.

Kisumi laughs and kisses his neck. “Can we go back to bed?”

“It’s  _ noon _ ,” Makoto throws a scoff over his shoulder at them.

“I didn’t mean for  _ sleep _ .”

“Dis _ gus _ ting,” Kou sings, glaring.

Kisumi seems to need a second to process that yeah, they’re kinda being gross, not that  _ hes _ digsuting, and it’s  _ not _ a gay slur, just old friends throwing shit at each other like always. He’s becomming less sensitive, and Haru’s relieved.

“Oh, I could always ask Big Brother why you’re here having sleepovers,” Kisumi’s coming alive now, teasing.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she scowls, and she’s probably right. Rin’s 8000 miles away, and Kou’s more like 8 feet, and holding a broom.

Haru, who’s  _ not _ alive yet, rolls his eyes and gets out of Kou’s way to go and run the bath. Kisumi doesn’t even blush when Haru drags him to the bathroom to join him. Progress, Haru thinks.

They spend Saturday night at Kisumi’s. Mostly because the bed is bigger, but also to get out of the other couple’s way, and so Haru doesn’t have so far to go from his afternoon swim training. Asahi comes up to Kisumi’s flat with him, but at least Kisumi’s invited him this time.

The kiss Kisumi gives Haru when he lets himself in (because he’s been given a  _ key _ ) is unabashed and leaves a tingle akin to  _ pride _ on Haru’s lips. He’s becoming so relaxed being with Haru in front of people, he’d have never done this a week ago.

Kisumi and Asahi have spent the last ten years getting drunk and playing video games together on a Saturday night, and Kisumi’s not about to stop just because Haru’s hanging around. And Haru’s happy to wait, especially after leaving Kisumi to fend for himself all last night. He should probably get some studying done, anyway.

He likes the way Kisumi kneads at Haru’s calves (in his lap, obviously) when he’s concentrating, and the squeezes his feet get when he’s frustrated. And of course, the victory kisses. So tactile, as he always has been, but it’s different, somehow. Not just because Haru’s less annoyed by it, more like because Kisumi’s being more true to himself. It’s just  _ different _ . Better.

“So,” Asahi says, distracting Haru and Kisumi from their kisses. “Comp next weekend, Haru. You ready to take me on?”

“If you make it to the final with me,” Haru says mildly.

“What’s this?” Kisumi asks. “Like an in-house thing? Or a proper competition?”

“It’s our first round, our first time as college students,” Asahi says, grinning.

“Why did neither of you tell me this was coming up?” Kisumi looks a bit aghast, like he’s been left out of something important.

“You’ve been busy,” Asahi shrugs.

Haru agrees. They’ve been busy. He needs to finish his project  _ tomorrow  _ for sure now. He can’t swim at his best if he’s preoccupied with a complicated clay rendering of his boyfriend.

_ Boyfriend _ . Haru plays with the word, mouths it to himself. It’s been a while since they’ve mentioned it, but it feels easier now, like he’s getting the hang of it. He wants to say it out loud.

“Well, can I come and watch?” Kisumi asks.

“I’m not sure,” Asahi folds his arms. “What if you cheer for Haru instead of me?”

“Best friend versus boyfriend,” Haru says quietly, a smile playing on his lips.

“ _ Boyfriend _ ,” Kisumi whispers, holding Haru’s eye for a moment. “What... would you really race each other?”

Haru shrugs. “Maybe, it kinda depends on the day.”

“Fucking better,” Asahi grunts. “I need to smash you, Nanase.”

“Excuse me, he’s mine for smashing.”

Haru doesn’t  _ mean _ to be excited about getting Kisumi to his train, but he is. His head is so full of Kisumi, and he can’t wait to sculpt him. His hands are itching to work, physically flexing at his sides as they wait on the platform. Kisumi looks tense.

“You ok?” they ask at the same time. Kisumi nods, making Haru answer first.

“Wanna sculpt,” he mutters, a little concern that Kisumi might be put off creeping into his voice.

“You’re cute,” Kisumi smiles, and so does Haru, relieved.

“You?”

“I... think I might tell my family tonight. Come out to them, I mean.”

“Ok,” Haru says, because what else  _ can _ he say?

Kisumi’s hand reaches for one of his. “Can I tell them about us?”

“Of course.”

“And it’s ok with you if they end up telling your parents? Or... the whole of Iwatobi?”

“Kisi...” Haru’s not had much chance to play with the new nickname yet, but it makes Kisumi smile every time he uses it. “I know you worry about it, but it really,  _ really _ doesn’t bother me.”

“And... can I kiss you? Like right now? Here?”

Haru turns to face him, getting up on his toes, planting the kiss on Kisumi’s mouth before he can worry about it and back down. It’s simple, nothing sloppy, just enough for now.

“Haru...” Kisumi whispers when they pull away. Haru can see him looking around at the other people on the platform and feels him tense up like he’s expecting the worst.

No one’s looking at them, no one’s noticed, no one really cares. They’re just like every other young couple saying goodbye to each other.

“You’re amazing,” Haru tells him, followed by another kiss, on his cheek this time.

“I’m  _ not _ .”

“You’re a whole new person, since you told us,” Haru continues, ignoring him.

“Because I have  _ you _ .”

“No,” Haru stops him, squeezing both his hands. “Because you’re  _ you _ .”

He knows he’ll understand, even if Haru doesn’t have the words to tell Kisumi just how  _ well _ he’s doing. How much he’s grown and blossomed in just over a  _ month _ . He’s conquering his fears, taking on all his long-harbored doubts in himself and blowing them away, one day at a time. He’s changing Haru, too, making him kinder, more observant and respectful. He likes this Kisumi, this real one, the Kisumi who’s not trying to shield himself with dramatic hand gestures and dirty jokes. His Kisumi.

“Call me, if you need me,” he tells him as the train pulls up.

“What if I just want to?”

“That too, then.”

Kisumi doesn’t call, but he does text, while Haru is working on the second face. He looks at his screen and realises that it’s nearly midnight, and he’s been working for nearly nine hours without a break. He really needs to pee.

He’s not sure when Makoto got home, but he can hear him snoring. He probably took one look at Haru  _ in the zone _ and snuck himself off to bed, out of the way.

_ Everyone’s ok. They think you’re cute. Mum remembers you. They want to come to your comp. _ is Kisumi’s text, and Haru smiles.

_ ok _ .

_ I’m going to bed. Looooong day. See you tomorrow? _

_ I finish training at 4. _

_ I’ll pick you up. _

Oh, that’s cute. And then Haru sighs at himself, because when has he ever called  _ anything _ cute. Just another one of Kisumi’s influences. He goes to look one last time at his model, satisfied, and picks it up by the board beneath it to move it to his room for safekeeping. He considers sending Kisumi a picture, but it’s not ready yet. It needs to dry, and he wants to sand down any rough bits and add some colour, but that can wait until after he’s raced this weekend. It’s safe on top of his bookshelf, where the sun can’t reach it and Makoto can’t do anything clumsy.

Of course, picking Haru up from training also means picking  _ Asahi _ up from training, and Haru is immediately biting his tongue on saying something sarcastic and probably a little bit mean regarding their resident idiot friend, who has apparently no concept that Kisumi and Haru might want a little  _ alone time _ with each other, and bounds along with them, chatting incessantly.

Haru sighs. All he really,  _ really _ wants to do is touch Kisumi. He wonders if Kisumi would let them hold hands, or if he could put his arm around his waist. He understands Kisumi’s worries by now... his fears of someone yelling something nasty across the street at them, or a car horn honking at them. Haru had long thought that Kisumi thrived off attention, but he now realises that he fears it, and knows he always tries to control the type of attention he receives.

“Wanna hold hands?” Kisumi asks suddenly, as they’re rounding the corner to the street his apartment building is on. Haru’s silence must catch him off guard. “We don’t have to... I just thought.”

Haru takes his hand without answering, lacing their fingers together and gripping tighter than is probably necessary.

“I can’t stay too long today,” he finally says when Asahi has left them to go to his own floor, and they’re climbing the stairs to Kisumi’s. He’s slacking on his coursework, and has an assignment to hand in before the competition.

But it’s just long enough for Kisumi to tell him all about his night at home, and how he’d sat down at dinner and put on a serious voice to tell his family he  _ has news _ . Despite all his fears, everyone had been so happy for him, so happy that he was happy.

“Dad still wants me to join him in the business, too,” Kisumi continues. “I really thought he’d tell me to fuck off, and they’d disown me...”

“Where do you get these ideas?” Haru wonders, rubbing his hands over Kisumi’s back, and then pushes him back so he can start kissing his neck.

“Maybe I need to read less negative stories... I’ve read  _ so much _ about coming out being so  _ awful _ that I never thought there could be a  _ happy _ story.”

“You do marketing,” Haru’s hands are wandering down now, playing with the band of Kisumi’s trousers so he can access his hip bones. He likes this bit, the delicacy of his waist and the slight swell into his narrow hips, the jut of the joint. “You know it’s always the bad news that sells the most.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so -” Kisumi pauses to raise his hips up, so Haru can slide his trousers off, “so difficult... you’ve been so patient with me.”

“It’s fine,” Haru says. “You’ve been great.”

“Thank you, though. I couldn’t have done it without you, I don’t think... what are you doing?” his fingers tangle in Haru’s hair as Haru’s kissing his Adonis belt.

“Sucking you off?” Haru suggests, waiting for Kisumi to meet his eye and nod his acceptance. “You need to have more faith in yourself.”

“Do you want to have sex?” Kisumi asks, uncoiling slightly as he comes down from his climax.

“Is that not what we’re doing?” Haru’s confused, because Kisumi’s already told him to take his clothes off so he can repay the favour.

“I mean... properly?”

Haru nods to himself, it’s not like he hasn’t  _ thought _ about it, maybe even most nights, when he’s alone.

“Now?”

“ _ Well _ ...” Kisumi balks, immediately looking worried and disappointed and excited all at once.

“This weekend, then.”

“After you win,” Kisumi agrees.

“Is that a condition?” Haru asks, mildly alarmed. “Do I  _ have _ to win?”

“Maybe,” Kisumi decides, relieved and smiling now. “If you win, you take top?”

“Is that how everyone decides these things?”

“Well what do you suggest... it’s not as but and dry as straight sex, is it?”

“Flip a coin? Or if I win, I get to choose?”

“You mean you  _ don’t _ want to go top? Is that not... meant to be better?”

Haru shrugs. He doesn’t know, neither of them do. “We can do both,” he decides.

Ikuya’s the first one to be looking slightly side-swiped at Haru and Kisumi on Friday night, at a pre-race party thing they’re ended up doing (because of Kisumi, probably) at a local pasta place. Haru doesn’t  _ think _ he’s  _ judging _ them, necessarily, just that he’s surprised, confused, something like that. Kisumi’s tense beside him, sat between Haru and Yamazaki Sousuke, who’s borrowing Haru’s bed for the weekend so he can stay and watch the competition. Haru would be more put out by Makoto offering this, but it just means he gets to stay with Kisumi. Sousuke’s comment had surprised Haru the most, out of all their friends' reactions to their new  _ relationship _ status.

“I kinda thought Rin would have swooped in there first, if he’d known,” Sousuke had mused, mostly to Makoto.

“What do you mean?” Makoto asked.

“He’s had the hots for Haru for  _ years _ ...”

So... Rin’s gay. It sorts of makes a lot of sense, when Haru recalls Rin’s tendencies to blush away into oblivion in the changing rooms, and his habit of holding eye contact with Haru in the same way Kisumi does now, like he’s going to kiss him.

He considers it, what being with Rin might be like compared to being with Kisumi, but he struggles to picture it. It would just be one big hot mess of competitions and tears, and Haru doesn’t have the energy to keep up with Rin’s antics even over  _ text _ , let alone if he was sleeping with him. And he’s just... not getting that spark, the spark that lit up inside him when he first laid down with Kisumi, and that's been burning and growing ever since.

Haru has his arm around Kisumi’s waist, keeping them pressed to each other’s sides. He’s been watching Makoto and Kou, and how they manage in public spaces when they want to be close. If he just copies, they should be fine, probably. Makoto’s not obscene, just little touches, pushing Kou’s fringe out of her face and kissing her cheek when he whispers something in her ear.

“Can we get takeaway cake and go home?” Kisumi asks Haru, almost silently.

“What’s wrong?” Haru looks at him, concerned, searching for signs of upset.

“Can’t handle  _ him _ looking at us anymore.” Kisumi gestures in Ikuya’s direction, and Sousuke has tuned into their conversation.

“Ignore it. It’s his problem. You’re not doing anything wrong,” he says, loud enough for their entire table to hear, sounding annoyed, maybe even angry.

“ _ Is _ there a problem?” Makoto asks, glancing over everyone and reading their minds or whatever he does. “Ikuya?”

“Yamazaki’s right,” Ikuya mumbles. “My problem. Sorry.”

Kisumi’s still a little shaken when they get back to his apartment later on. His mood is low, and his kisses taste upset. Haru’s not sure what to do except set up a movie in the bedroom and hold on to him.

“You need a good night’s sleep,” Kisumi tells him, almost scolding.

“But are you ok?”

“I’ll live,” Kisumi sighs, rolling into Haru. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“His problem,” Haru repeats, and they kiss, laying down facing each other.

There’s a pause in their conversation, mostly because they’re kissing, but Haru feels like Kisumi has more to say.

“So how do you feel about Rin?” Kisumi asks. “Did you know? Before tonight?”

Haru shakes his head. So  _ that’s _ it. Is Kisumi... jealous? “He’s a good friend. And I had no idea... but it seems obvious, now.”

“Would you have dated him? I’m not saying you’re gonna leave me for him... I’m just...”

Looking for reassurance, Haru guesses. “No,” he says easily. “It’d be too hard. The distance, and the competitions. It wouldn’t work if we both wanted to keep swimming.” And then he has another thought, a little twinge he’s been trying to ignore. “What about you?”

In theory, they’d be great together. They’re both so jubilant and annoying, and Haru needs to sit up and take a breath. He’s getting worked up.

“I’ve always liked you,” and that’s what Makoto had said too, isn’t it? “And I think I might... I might love you.”

That’s an easy one. Haru smiles, leaning back into Kisumi who’s arms are around him again. “I think I love you too.”

Haru rips his goggles off and looks up at the board for his name and place to light up, and then looks to find Kisumi, and the rest of their friends and families, all grinning down at him. Kisumi is running down the stairs, coming to the front of the stands, and Haru goes over to him when he’s hauled himself out of the pool.

“You’re  _ amazing _ , Haru. I love you.”

“I love you too, Kisi.”

Haru has to get on his toes to reach him for a kiss, and it’s not much of one, just enough to make his stomach flutter. There’s some more cheering, and someone clapping Haru on the back and letting him know he needs to get out of the way, but that’s fine.

He exchanges pleasantries with the rest of his team, but they must  _ know _ , now, that he has better places to be.

“Go on,” Mikoshiba gives him a nudge. “Is that your boyfriend over there? You can go.”

_ Boyfriend _ .

Maybe it’s a bit rude, but maybe Haru should have realised this would happen. Kisumi’s lying next to him, naked and still a bit sticky, because they got a bit out of hand with the strawberry lube, looking utterly blissed out in that semi-conscious state between sex and sleep, and all Haru wants to do is go home and work on his sculpture.

“Do you want to do it again?” Kisumi asks, eyes flickering open to assess him. “You look keyed up, still.”

Haru sighs, figuring he should lie down and be cuddled. Sousuke’s still in his bed at home anyway, so he  _ can’t  _ go home and finish his work. Maybe another round will settle him down.

“Let’s swap?” he suggests.

“I’m not moving from here,” Kisumi states, and that’s fair enough. He’s had one hell of a work out already. “Be gentle with me.”

“So delicate,” Haru teases, and gets up to get between Kisumi’s legs, spreading them out and watching Kisumi blush as he gets a thorough look at the one remaining angle he’s not burned into his memory just yet.

But he will, and he can’t see himself ever being able to share his artwork again, unless he wants a job as a doujinshi artist. It might give him some extra spending money, so he can take Kisumi on some fancy dates. It’s definitely something to consider…

_ I’m outside _ , Haru texts, leaning on the wall of the sports facility, where Kisumi has basketball practice this afternoon, and should have just finished.

_ Basketball? _ Kisumi replies.

_ Ye. _

_ 2mins. _

It’s more like ten minutes, because Kisumi’s probably washing his hair, but it’s ok, Haru can wait. The big, glass double doors open, and Haru catches sight if  _ pink _ and heads over. Kisumi’s walking with some other guys, probably teammates, but bounces over to meet Haru.

“This is a surprise,” he says, beaming.

“I have something to show you.”

“A sight I’ve never seen before?” Kisumi makes a dramatic movement with his arm, doing his best Rin impression, and then his arm lands around Haru.

Someone from basketball gives them a wolf whistle, but then it’s all smiles and waves and pleasant goodbyes, and Kisumi’s not affected at all. Everything’s alright.

“It’s you...” Haru explains, hovering behind Kisumi as he stares at the statue in the middle of the table. “Coming out... and coming out of your shell... and how you kept holding yourself back... but how you’re doing so well.”

Kisumi is silent.

“You don’t have to like it, or anything... and I don’t want you to feel like I used your for a muse... it just sort of happened.”

“Shut up,” Kisumi snaps, and Haru can hear tears bubbling up. “Just shut up, and kiss me. It’s... it’s amazing, Haru.”


End file.
